The Chosen Undead
by Goodpie2
Summary: ABANDONED When Lily messes up the ritual to protect Harry, she protects him WITH death instead of FROM death. When Dumbledore's sensors detect the death of one Harry Potter, he announces the death of the Boy-Who-Didn't-Live-But-Saved-Us-All. So why is it, that fifteen years later, a kid with a shotgun and a scar on his forehead shows up, claiming to be the dead Savior?
1. Prologue

YAY! Another plot tribble! This one is actually even less developed than the others, if that's even possible. You see, the way I write is basically to put all of the characters in a big box, and see how they interact with each other. This means that I have no plan for where I'm going to go with it. If I had a plan, I would have to force the characters to go along with it. I prefer to let them come up with their own solutions to problems. Anyway, this is actually one of the first fanfic ideas I ever thought of, but it never really got off the ground. It wasn't until recently that I decided to give it another go.

This isn't the same quality as my normal work (which I'm aware isn't exactly great in the first place) but it's as good as I can get it. If you can come up with explanations for any of the numerous flaws, please PM me.

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"_Kaf lo shoph ciz burl mon..."_

Sweat dripped down Lily's forehead as she chanted rapidly, waving her wand in complicated runic patterns. She knew she had only a few more moments- even James, as skilled a fighter as he was, couldn't hold off the Dark Lord himself for very long.

_"Purlipo ciz fir boa montinasto zof byrdno ..."_

"Avada Kedavra!" she heard from downstairs, followed by an erie silence. Her husband had fallen- the Dark Lord was coming. She continued to chant and activated the runic circle she'd drawn around her son's bed, even as she heard the slow, quiet footsteps coming up the stairs.

"_mochila qiristico zif-_ Ah!" She gasped as she heard the door handle turn as she finished the ritual, and then felt the blood drain from her face as she realized what she'd said. By adding the suffix "a" to the word "_zif," _she had changed it's meaning from "from" to "with." The final line of the ritual now translated to "protect him _with _death," instead of "protect him _from _death." But it was too late to change anything. The ritual only had one more step. With trembling hands, she pointed her wand at her forehead.

"Avada Kedavra!"

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Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord in wizarding history, opened the door to find Lily Potter already dead on the floor, her wand in her hand. While this was curious, it was of no real concern to him- the boy was why he was here, not his mudblood of a mother. Voldemort turned to see the child that was prophesied to be his equal, and sneered at what he saw- just a little child. To think that he, the most powerful wizard ever to walk the earth, had been _afraid _of a little child.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A green flash of light, searing pain, a high, wailing scream, and an enormous explosion. The body of Lord Voldemort was incinerated, what was left of his soul was flung out, and the heart of Harry Potter stopped beating.

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**Fourteen Years Later**

Harry strained, focusing all of his magic on one single goal- escape. It had taken four years for his magic to get strong enough that he was willing to risk teleportation. He'd spent the entirity of the past four years manipulating the chains that had once bound his arms and legs until he was exhausted, then allowing his magic to restore fully before he tried once more.

There was a loud _crack, _and Harry abruptly found himself on the grass outside Number Four, Privet Drive. He stared at the starry sky above him, and began laughing hysterically. _Freedom! _After four fucking years, he was finally _free! _And now... now, he would have his revenge.

He lay there on the grass, contemplating the events that had led to him being buried in a footlocker for the bast four years.

He had been cutting up an onion for his aunt's casserole when his hand slipped, cutting off his index finger.

"Crap," Harry swore quietly. Unfortunately for him, Dudley was in the room to plunder the fridge and heard his curse.

"MOM!" Dudley called. "Harry sai..." the would-be tattle-tale froze as he saw the finger lying on the ground, then screamed and ran out of the room.

A few moments later, Aunt Petunia came into the kitchen. "What have you done to my Dudders? What have you done?"

"Nothing, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, knowing she wouldn't believe him.

"LIAR! Diddykums just came to me screaming about...your...finger..." Petunia said, trailing off as she saw Harry's missing finger.

Now, in another universe, a universe in which his mother had performed the ritual properly, Petunia wouldn't have cared in the slightest. She would have taken the boy to the hospital, yes, but she would have secretly been glad that the little brat was in pain. However, this was not that universe.

"FREAK!" she called as she saw the lack of blood coming from the stump of Harry's finger. "Get into your cupboard, NOW, you little monster!"

"But Aunt..."

"NOW, DAMMIT!"

Harry immediately went to his cupboard without a word. He'd never heard Aunt Petunia swear before, so she must have been _really _mad.

It was three days before he was allowed outside of his cupboard, during which he was extremely glad that he had no need to eat. He had learned long ago that he was apparently some sort of undead (he got the term from a fantasy book he'd read when he was younger)- he had no blood or heartbeat, his wounds didn't heal, his senses of touch, taste, and smell were dulled, and he had no need to eat, sleep, or breathe. In fact, he hadn't known what sleeping and breathing _were _until he was six (that's another story). He had also deduced that magic existed easily enough- after all, without magic, how could he exist as an undead? He had assumed, from his relatives' rants about his "freakishness" that they were aware of this nature. He had assumed wrong. As soon as they heard him say the words "undead" and "magic," he had been locked back in his cupboard. He knew now that he never should have tried to explain himself to the Dursleys, but he'd only been ten at the time.

A week after the Dursleys found out about his undeath, Uncle Vernon had let him out of his cupboard again. Harry's hand strayed to the hole Vernon's shotgun had left in his chest on that occasion.

The day after his uncle had shot him, Harry was dragged out to the backyard of the Dursleys home. It was pitch black outside, and waiting for them was a deep hole, a large footlocker, and several sets of chains.

"Hold still, freak." Uncle Vernon said, then grabbed one of the chains and used it to bind Harry's arms to his chest. Harry, in his shock, didn't fight back at first. By the time he started struggling, the chain was already around him, and it was a simple matter for Vernon to lock them. Another chain went around his legs, and a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. A screaming Harry was then pushed into the footlocker, and the lid was closed. He heard the sound of more chains being dragged across the footlocker and locks being closed. A few moments later, he tumbled around as the locker was pushed into the hole.

Harry stood up, still giggling to himself. Had anyone been present to witness him, they would have assumed (correctly, mind you) that the boy was at least slightly unhinged- wearing clothes far too small for him and giggling like a maniac as he walked towards the back door of Number Four.


	2. Who the Hell Are You?

Harry looked at the glass door to the Dursleys' living room for a moment to see his reflection, and froze, shocked. Before his incarceration, he had been passable as a human. He'd been extremely pale, yes, but he had just looked like he never saw the sun. Now, however, he looked... well, dead. He didn't look like a traditional zombie, but he doubted he could pass as a normal human. His skin was greyed and slightly rotting, his hair had turned stark white, and his teeth and fingernails were yellowing. Put simply, he looked as though he had been dead for a few days.

Though Harry didn't know it, the magic running through his body to connect to the blood wards had also been maintaining the cells in his body, keeping them in a sort of stasis. With them up, his body had been able to remain normal in appearance. With Vernon's final act of hatred- the attempted murder of his nephew- the blood wards had fallen. Since Harry's magic no longer needed to connect to the blood wards, it had retreated into his magical core. There was, of course, some magic running through his body, but not enough to maintain a full stasis, only enough to slow the decay.

Harry stared at his reflection a moment longer before bringing his fist to the door with all of his undead strength. The glass shattered, several shards digging into Harry's hand. He grimaced, and took a moment to pick out most of the larger pieces, thanking his deadened sense of touch as he did so. He was certain that a human would have been in a great deal of pain. As it was, the pain was fairly mild.

He stepped through the shattered door and made his way to the kitchen. Had he not been so focused on his goal, he may have noticed an important detail- the pictures on the wall no longer depicted a walrus, a giraffe, and a whale. They insted showed a rather normal family with a moderately thin man, a slightly overweight woman, and two children.

Once Harry reached the kitchen, he quickly found a large butcher knife, idly noting that the Dursleys had redecorated. He tested the knife against his finger, grinning in satisfaction as it cut through the flesh without difficulty.

Quietly, Harry crept into the living room, once again noting that the Dursleys had redecorated. Carefully, he turned the doorknob into the master bedroom, his eyes on the bed as he stepped inside.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, as the case may be, he didn't notice the man coming out of the bathroom to the side. The man, however, certainly noticed the small form, knife raised, creeping towards the bed. With a cry, the man charged the stranger and grabbed the hand holding the knife, twisting the intruder's wrist to force him to drop it.

Harry looked up in surprise at the unfamiliar man grabbing onto his wrist, then swore viciously as he realized his mistake. Of _course _the Dursleys had moved- they wouldn't want to stay anywhere near his prison. He'd been so focused on escaping and taking his revenge that the possibility hadn't even occurred to him. He swung his free arm at the stranger's stomach with superhuman strength (for a thirteen year old, so it came out to being about the force of a relatively strong adult), causing the man to buckle over in pain, but he didn't release his grip on Harry's wrist. Harry grabbed the man's arm with his free hand and twisted as hard as he could until the man gave a cry and let go of Harry's hand.

As soon as he was free, Harry turned and ran- he didn't want to hurt a stranger (well, permanently, in any case), but he _really _didn't want to be arrested for breaking and entering and attempted murder. Not before he'd killed the Dursleys, anyway.

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"And finally, Thomas Franklin of Privet Drive, Surrey, reports that he was assaulted in his home on Tuesday night by an intruder, armed with a butcher knife from his kitchen," said the reporter. "Mr. Franklin claims that he was unable to see much in the dark, but was able to tell that the perpetrator was male, about five feet tall with black hair and glasses, and, most distinctively, was missing his left index finger. If you have any information regarding this intruder, please call..."

Vernon's tuned out the rest of the news report as the blood drained from his face. Black hair, glasses, and a missing finger? That could only be the freak! But how? How could the monster have escaped? He'd made sure to bury it deep, and there was no way it could have gotten all of those chains off. And the Franklins... that was the family they'd sold Number Four to. Obviously, the freak was out, and after him and his family. If that was true... Vernon shuddered. If the freak was able to escape after being chained up, locked in a trunk, chained again, and buried ten feet under ground, there was no telling what it could do. And if it was after his family, he only had one choice- run. Silently, Vernon Dursley began making plans.

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Harry, clad in jeans, a Piano Man t-shirt, and a leather jacket, hefted his new backpack as he walked through the woods near Privet Drive. Since he'd needed supplies, he'd decided to take a little bit of revenge against one of the members of Dudley's old gang to get them. Making sure that the Polkisses still lived there first, he'd broken into their house and taken some clothes, a nice knife that he'd found on Pierce's bookshelf, 120 pounds, and, for good measure, Pierce's iPod. Thankfully, Pierce had always been fairly skinny, so the clothes weren't too bad a fit, but his shoes were rather loose.

Harry had decided to set up in the woods for a few days while he made plans, and was currently looking for an old house he'd found in the woods when he was younger. It was night again, and he was about to give up when a low growling behind him caught his attention. Fearfully, Harry turned to find himself faced with... himself. Or, more accurately, another undead. Unfortunately, this undead was slightly less intelligent than Harry was. Growling, it lunged forward, clawing at Harry's face with its rotting fingers.

Harry screamed as the zombie's finger dug into his left eye, and grabbed the monster's wrist, trying to pull it off of him. The creature dug its hand into his eye socket to improve its grip, forcing Harry to pry its fingers out of his eye. Grabbbing the zombie by its decayed wrist, he threw its arm to the side and pushed the corpse away from himself as hard as he possibly could. As soon as it was off of him, Harry turned tail and ran. He ran as fast as he could, dodging between trees and rocks to make it harder for the zombie to chase after him. The zombie gave chase, moving at a surprisingly high speed for a rotted corpse.

After a few minutes of running, the still screaming Harry saw a nearby clearing. The house! He'd found it! If he could just get inside, he could barricade the door, and the monster wouldn't be able to get to him. Harry put on a burst of speed as he veered towards the clearing. Unfortunately, his sharp turn took him closer to the zombie, who lunged after him again, narrowly missing. Harry put on another burst of speed and burst out of the clearing, leaves and bits of grass flying in the air behind him. A few moments later, the zombie came out as well, stumbling over the underbrush.

"God dammit," came a voice, shortly followed by the sound of a gunshot. The zombie's head exploded, and its body fell to the ground.

Harry sighed and sagged in relief as he turned to thank his savior.

It was a man in his mid twenties, extremely well built and with reddish brown hair. He was wearing a grey robe, and in his hands was a high-powered hunting rifle.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said gratefully.

"No problem, kid. Now, let's get you back home, shall we? Or are you running away?" the man asked.

"No, sir. My parents are dead, and my relatives..." Harry hesitated. What should he say? That his relatives locked him in a buried trunk for three years? "My relatives threw me out," he eventually said.

The man lookd at him thoughtfully for a moment, then abruptly said "What's your name, kid?"

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

The man's jaw fell open, and he dropped his rifle to the ground, where it went off with a loud _ bang. _Harry staggered as he felt the bullet hit him in the chest, and the stranger swore viciously.

"Fuck! I just shot Harry Potter!" he said, pulling out a long, polished stick as he rushed to Harry's side.

"It's okay, sir. It's not that bad, really," Harry tried to push the man away, not wanting him to learn of his undead nature.

"Don't be stupid, kid," the man said, followed by "_lumos."_ As soon as he said the word, his stick lit up the area in front of it and he shined it on Harry's chest. "Now where'd you get hit? Wait, what the hell? I know it hit you," the man asked when he saw the distinct lack of blood on Harry's shirt. Ignoring Harry's protests, he drew up Harry's shirt to look at the wound. Unfortunately for Harry, this exposed the wound his uncle's shotgun had left before he'd been put in the footlocker.

"What the fuck?" the man asked, looking Harry in the eyes.

"It's a long story, sir," Harry explained.

The stranger looked at him carefully. "You swear you're Harry Potter?"

"What? What do you mean?" Harry was confused. Who else would he be?

"You aren't just some jackass kid trying to be funny with me? You're really Harry Potter?" the man repeated.

"Of course I am. Why? Do I know you?" Harry asked, then his eyes sharpened and he asked somewhat eagerly, "Do you know where I can find the Dursleys?"

"The what? What's a dursley?" the man asked.

"They're my relatives. If you don't know them, how come you know who I am?"

The man looked at Harry and exploded into laughter. It was several minutes before he calmed down again.

"Kid, we've got a lot to talk about."

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	3. The Return

Here's a summary of what happened as a result of Harry's being absent from Hogwarts. It's almost entirely built upon what I believe to be logical conclusions drawn from the events of the books.

First year: Despite Harry's absence, Hermione escaped the troll with minimal injury. However, she was severely traumatized, and spent several weeks under the care of a professional Mind Healer. As planned, Quirrelmort easily made his way to the Mirror of Erised, where he was stumped for hours by the puzzle of how to get the Stone out of the mirror. Dumbledore arrived with the aurors and easily apprehended him, but the shade of Lord Voldemort, after a brief conversation with Dumbledore, abandoned his host, who was then arrested. Thanks to the aurors' presence, Lord Voldemort's survival became known to the Wizarding World. Auror recruitment is increased, and a higher priority is placed on self defense training in the wizarding world.

Second year: Without Harry present, Ginny was more clear-headed, as she was not obsessing over him. When she encountered the diary of Tom Riddle, she remembered her father's advice to "never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brains," and took the diary to Professor McGonagall for examination. The Horcrux was destroyed, and the Chamber of Secrets was never opened.

Third year: Without Harry's intervention, Sirius and Pettigrew's encounter was private. Without Harry to convince him to do otherwise, Sirius did murder Pettigrew, but was clear-minded enough to make it look as if it was during a fight, so that he could claim self defense. With Pettigrew's body as evidence, Sirius was able to bring his case to the Wizengamot, where he plead his case and was exonnerated.

After his exonneration, Sirius decided to do further research into Harry's apparent death, and managed to track down his godson. At Harry's request, Sirius has not told anybody that Harry is alive-ish, but he has moved in with Harry and Mick Taylor (the guy who shot Harry in chapter one).

Fourth Year: With Harry dead, Voldemort felt no need to interfere with the Triwizard Tournemant. Voldemort was aided in his resurrection by Barty Crouch Jr rather than Pettigrew (since the rat-bastard is dead), and the victim used in the resurrection was a random ministry worker, who was killed after the ritual. Dumbledore, through Snape, is aware of Voldemort's return. Because of the earlier warning that Voldemort wasn't in fact dead, the message went across much better than in cannon. New measures are taken to prepare for the war, such as increase auror recruitment, better training, and better background checks for Ministry workers. Unfortunately, the blood-supremesists still control much of the ministry, and are able to prevent many of the necessary major changes.

**A/N- Originally, all of this stuff, especially Sirius' finding Harry and Mick was gonna be explained in flashbacks as the story progressed, but I remembered how much I hate reading a story that does that, and figured I'm probably not the only one, so I decided to just do this.**

There yah go. I fudged Hermione's survival, yes, but that's because I wanted her to be able to but heads with Harry. Originally, I was planning on her being dead, but I decided it would be so much more fun to screw with her. I also fudged Ginny a little bit, but I don't feel like it was too unreasonable- after all, most of what she wrote in the diary was about Harry, according to Riddle. Besides, the only other option was having Voldemort resurrected in year two, like in Harry Potter and the Natural Twenty. The only reasonable explanation for the ridiculously easy obstacle course followed by an impenetrable defense is if it were a trap, and Harry screwed it up, and Sirius, as the Head of an Ancient and Noble House, would have been able to play the "self defense" card fairly easily and get away with it no matter how obvious an excuse it was- after all, Lucius Malfoy got away with the "Imperius Curse" excuse, didn't he?

Now, a word of warning- this is gonna come across as a "bad ass Harry" fic. In a way, it is. In a way, it's not. He's not super powerful. He's behind in classes, except a few areas he excels in, and he's only of average power. His strengths come from his willingness to combine muggle weaponry and wizard magic. He's also slightly unhinged from his time in the footlocker and completely obsessed with his revenge on the Dursleys. And I may decide to make him a borderline sociopath. I'm not sure about that one. But yeah, he's got weaknesses, including a few which will come as surprises later.

Lastly, WTF, PEOPLE? One review? Come ON!

This chapter is dedicated to **Darkth Shadow, **the only person who took three seconds out of their time to tell me what he/she thought.

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Hermione and Ginny looked up as the door to their compartment opened and a boy stepped in. His long, black hair was in the ponytail traditional to many purebloods, he had a brown leather knapsack at his waist, and he was wearing jeans and a _Def Leppard _T-shirt, but that was where normalcy ended. He had a blood red patch over his left eye, and his right hand appeared to be made of smoke made solid, while his left was missing its index finger. Hanging from his neck was a necklace of a theatre mask, across his back was what Hermione immediately identified as a combat shotgun, and strapped to his waste was a Bowie knife, while three grenades hung from a bandolier on his hip.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

Hermione and Ginny, too stunned by his appearance, simply nodded and scooted to make room for him.

"I'm Harry," he said as he took the shotgun off of his shoulder and put it on a seat before sitting down. He waved his wand, and a trunk followed him in from the corridor and levitated up to the compartments above the seats.

"I'm Ginny, and these are Hermione and Luna," the youngest Weasley said, pointing at herself and her friends.

Luna, who had been absorbed by the latest edition of the Quibbler, finally looked up at hearing her name. When her eyes fell on Harry, she froze.

"You're dead," she said. "Why haven't the wrackspurts gotten to you yet?"

Harry looked shocked for a moment before recomposing himself. "I'm sorry? What's a wrackspurt?" he asked. Luna, however, had already gone back to her reading as if nothing had happened.

Harry looked quizically at Ginny, who shrugged. "Luna can be a bit... odd, at times," she explained while giving Harry a look that plainly invited death if he dared to make fun of Ginny's friend.

"I see," Harry said, looking at Luna again before shrugging off the matter. He reached into his knapsack and withdrew a large paperback book, which he then began reading.

Hermione was having none of that.

"Why do you have a shotgun? And grenades?" she asked in her general bossy tone.

"To kill things," Harry answered without looking up from his book.

Hermione simply gaped.

"I'm sorry," Ginny asked, "but what's a shotgun or grenade?"

"They're weapons, Ginny," Hermione explained. "A grenade explodes and throws shards of metal around, and a shotgun fires several lead balls at an extremely high speed. Both of them are _extremely _dangerous, and should not be anywhere _near _a school or children in general, and I would very much like to know what in the world Harry's parents were thinking when they allowed him to have such dangerous weapons. Honestly, just because wizarding law doesn't regulate muggle weapons doesn't mean anybody can carry them wherever they like." As she said this last part she gave Harry a scowl.

"I'm not a child, thank you very much," Harry said from behind his book.

"Firstly, you _are _a child, since I very much doubt you're older than I am, and secondly, I was talking about the other children in the school," Hermione responded. "What if a first year gets their hands on your weapons? Besides, you honestly can't expect to keep those when you get to Hogwarts. School rules clearly state that no weapons of any kind are allowed on the premises."

"They'll make an exception," said Harry bluntly.

"I'm sorry, but how can something that fires balls of lead be that dangerous?" Ginny interrupted.

Hermione blinked, and Harry looked at the girl for a moment, before busting out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?" Ginny asked angrily.

"It's not _that _funny," Hermione said, also glaring at Harry.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, after he'd calmed down. "It's just... I've seen what a gun can do firsthand, and the idea that they aren't dangerous..." he chuckled again.

"But how _is _that dangerous?" Ginny asked again.

"The bullets fired by a gun are so fast, Ginny, that they tear straight through bone and flesh. Depending on where they hit, they can be extremely lethal. A shotgun," at this, she glanced at Harry, "is exceptionally deadly because it fires so _many _balls of lead."

"That's half the reason I use one," Harry commented. "You wouldn't _believe _how hard it is to kill an inferus without just blowing the fucker's head off. A pistol doesn't do shit, and a rifle takes too much time to aim properly when the bastard's already up close to you."

Ginny and Hermione stared at him for a moment, before Hermione asked quitely. "You've fought Inferi? How?"

"The woods I live in are full of the damn things. Mick says they started showing up a few years ago. We're not sure why that is. Sirius has some ideas, but nothing really concrete." What Harry didn't mention was that the inferi had started showing up shortly after his incarceration in the footlocker, or that Sirius suspected that the inferi were attracted to Harry's own undead state, a theory that was supported by the monsters' tendencies to head straight for Mick's cabin, and by the fact that even when the three of them went on vacation to France, they still had trouble with various undead.

"Wait, Sirius? As in Sirius Black? Nobody's seen him since his trial, when he went to find out what happened to..." Hermione trailed off, her eyes widening as she put the clues together. "You're Harry Potter!" she whispered. "But you're dead! The goblins said so and everything!"

"Yep," answered Harry. "In fact, they still say I'm dead. They'll let me access my vault and everything, but they still say I'm dead. Bugs the hell out of me."

Ginny giggled while Hermoine just stared.

"But the goblins," started the brunette.

"Oh, hush, Hermione. He's obviously not dead. Somehow the goblins must have gotten it wrong for once," Ginny said, before adding "I guess Bill was wrong about how 'untrickable' their magic is."

Harry smiled slightly before going back to his book.

"So, where have you been all these years?" Hermione asked.

"And what happened to you?" Ginny added.

"Around. And I told you, the woods around my house are full of inferi. You can't expect me to fight them all and not get harmed, can you?" the boy said as he turned a page.

"What do you _mean _'around?' The whole world thought you were DEAD! How could you let everybody just think that their savior had _died?_"

At that, Harry looked up. "Listen carefully," he said. "I'm not anybody's _savior. _I didn't do shit. Whatever happened that night, obviously had nothing to do with me. My parents were both there, so obviously they managed to kill Voldemort- oh for Christ's sake, it's just a fucking name," Harry interrupted himself at the scream from Ginny and the gasp from Hermione. "Anyway, it seems obvious that one of my parents managed to kill _Voldemort_ at the same time he killed them."

"But Dumbledore said..." Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her.

"_Dumbledore said? _Dumbledore said that my parents were both killed without a fight, and that I was hit by a killing curse, which bounced off and destroyed Voldemort- oh get _over _it. Then Dumbledore came and took me to a 'safehouse,' but Death Eaters must have followed him and killed me to avenge their master. That doesn't sound just the least bit unlikely to you? Firstly, my dad was one of the best aurors there was. You honestly think he just died without a fight? Second, you expect that the killing curse, which has never been blocked in _all of history, _somehow bounced off of me and destroyed Voldemort? And Dumbledore just happened to _know _about that? Thirdly, why didn't Dumbledore just _apparate_ to the 'safehouse?' If he had, the Death Eaters wouldn't have been able to follow him, now would they?" Harry's voice didn't rise throughout his rant, it fell to a low hiss that Hermione almost had trouble hearing. "So, given all that, don't you think it's a little bit likely that Dumbledore just _may _have been wrong?"

"But Professor Dumbledore is the greatest wizard alive! I'm sure he knew what he was talking about. He wouldn't just say things like that without any reason. And I'm sure he knew what he was doing when he went to the safehouse. Maybe..."

"Maybe you're clutching at straws, and refuse to admit the truth. _Dumbledore was wrong. _The old man's going senile. He's part of history now, he just doesn't know it yet. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go find somebody intelligent to talk to."

With that, Harry got up, grabbed his shotgun, and left.

In reality, though, Harry wasn't really in the mood to talk to anybody, so he went to the last compartment of the train, figuring it was likely to be empty, and sat down to read his book.

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"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, firs' years! What are you doin' here? Yer no' a firs' year," said a bearded half-giant, who Harry recognized from Sirius's memories as Hagrid, as Harry joined the group of first year students.

"No, but I am going to be a transfer student," Harry replied. "My understanding is that the tradition of going across the lake applies to all newcomers, not just first year students."

"Ah. Right you are. Ye'll have teh get a boat teh yerself, though."

Harry nodded, and carefully boarded one of the tiny boats used to carry the students across the Great Lake. As the boats slowly moved across the lake of their own accord, Harry took in his first true glimpse of Hogwarts Castle (outside of Sirius's or Mick's memories). It rose over the lake like a castle over a body of water, with hundreds of lights shining from the windows. As they approached the castle, they went under a cliff, at which point the half giant shouted "Heads down!" The boats entered a long, dark tunnel, which led to an underground harbor, where the students got off onto a shore of rocks and pebbles. The bearded man led the new students up a passage in the stone tunnel and onto a grassy lawn, then to a pair of tremendous doors in the front of the castle. He raised a gigantic hand and knocked three times on the castle door.

Immediately, the door swung open to reveal a stern looking middle aged woman who Harry immediately recognized as Professor McGonagall.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall. Also, this lad here says he's a transfer student."

McGonagall's stern eyes immediately fell onto Harry. "I was not informed that we would be having any transfer students this year," she said firmly.

"You wouldn't have been." Harry stated. "I'm a last minute addition."

"Well, I'm afraid that will not be possible, then. All transfer students must apply at least thirty days before the beginnin of the school year."

"Just let me talk to Headmaster Dumbledore. I guaruntee you he'll make an exception."

"Oh? And why is that?" McGonagall said coldly.

At this, Harry raised his hand to his forehead and raised his bangs, revealing the scar on his forehead.

McGonagall's eyes rose considerably past her hairline and her eyes bulged. "Im...impossible..." she muttered.

"I assure you, it's not. Just give me a few moments with Professor Dumbledore before the Sorting, and I promise you he will make a few exceptions to the rules."

"Very well. I will guide you to his office. Hagrid, if you will lead the first years to the Charms room, and then tell Professor Dumbledore that he is needed in his office."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall." Harry said politely.

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. If you will follow me, we will go to the Headmaster's office immediately."

Harry winced as the first years began talking animatedly amongst themselves, but didn't say anything about McGonagall revealing his identity- it was going to come out in a few minutes anyway, after all. Instead, he simply followed the woman through the maze of corridors that was Hogwarts until they were led to a large statue of a gargoyle.

"Lemon Drops," McGonagall said, at which the gargoyle leapt to the side, revealing a spiral staircase. The moment Harry and McGonagall stepped onto the staircase, it began moving upwards, until it stopped at a small landing in front of a large door.

McGonagall stepped up to the door and knocked once.

"Come in," said a grandfatherly voice.

McGonagall looked at Harry, her stern eyes falling on his cold green ones.

"Would you like for me to come in with you, Mister Potter?"

"No thank you," Harry replied. "It would be best if this conversation remained between the headmaster and myself."

McGonagall frowned, but nodded, and stepped back onto the staircase, which descended once more.

Harry sighed, looked at the closed door, and took off his necklace.


	4. A Transfer Student

As soon as the necklace came off, Harry's appearance changed. His neat black ponytail changed into a sickly white one, his remaining eye sunk back into its socket, his teeth and nails yellowed, his tan skin changed to pale, rotting flesh, and the scent of death immediately surrounded him.

He had debated long and hard on this course of action with Sirius and Mick. Harry hadn't wanted anything to do with the old man who'd left him with his abusive relatives, but Sirius had insisted that Dumbledore could be trusted. Yes, he'd made mistakes, but everybody did, Sirius pointed out. Dumbledore'd had no way of knowing that the Dursleys would be so horrible, and the blood wards had been Harry's only protection.

Harry, however, hadn't been swayed in the least until Mick pointed out that Dumbledore, as the most powerful and learned wizard alive, would be the most likely person to be able to cure Harry's "condition." Harry, who was by now aware that his body was decomposing, albeit slowly, knew that he had only a few years until he fell apart completely, and so agreed immediately.

Sighing, Harry opened the door and stepped in.

"Hello, Harry, my..." Dumbledore stopped as his eyes fell on the decaying boy in front of him. "Merlin."

"_Merlin_ indeed," Harry said coldly. "I've been like this as long as I can remember, and it's been getting worse every year since my uncle, the one _you _left me with as a 'safehouse,' tried to _murder _me. Of course, I didn't realize it for three years, since the bastard locked me in a fucking _trunk._"

"Harry... I'm so sorry. I had no idea..." Dumbledore began, but Harry interrupted him.

"Whatever, old man. That's not why I'm here. I'm here because Sirius insisted that I come to Hogwarts to finish my education, and because a friend of mine convinced me that you may be able to save me. You see, I'm decomposing. We're not sure how long I have 'till my body fails completely, but it's not too long."

"I give you my word, I will do whatever I can to cure you, my boy. I promise. But I'm afraid I cannot allow you to attend Hogwarts in your current condition. It would interfere with the other students' learning procedures, and..."

"Don't worry about that. Sirius was able to fix that problem easily enough," Harry said, putting the neclace back on. Instantly, his appearance reverted to that of a normal(ish) human, and the smell of rotting flesh faded away.

"Ah. Very well. The next issue, then, is the matter of your weapons. I'm afraid..."

"That I will be keeping those," Harry interrupted. "During the day, I will only carry a knife and pistol, unless I feel that I am in greater danger than usual. My other weapons will remain securely in my footlocker, which is closed with a bloodlock. During nights, I intend to use them to clear out the Forbidden Forest of some of its darker creatures. I don't sleep, and, as far as we know, I can't be killed, so I may as well do some good at nights. If you disagree, I'll be perfectly happy to go to Durmstrang, which, as I understand it, has a much more lenient policy on the matter of weapons."

Harry didn't mention that spending the nights in the Forbidden Forest would be the only way to keep the castle from being overrun with Inferi, but he felt that Dumbledore didn't exactly need to know about the strange relation between himself and the undead monsters.

"Now, now. Let's be reasonable. Surely you don't need to go so far as going to Durmstrang. I'm sure we can come to some sort of compromise," Dumbledore said anxiously. He most definitely did _not _want this poor boy to be corrupted by the sort of things that went on at Durmstrang.

"No, I'm afraid not. Either I keep my weapons and use them like I said, or I go to Durmstrang. Which will it be?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well. You may keep your weapons, and you may hunt in the forest at night. Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

"Yes. I will require permission to leave the school grounds every now and then. I have a certain business which I must keep up with. Lastly, I would like my father's cloak back. I understand it was in your possession when he died."

"That won't be a problem, so long as you alert me when you are leaving the grounds. As for the cloak, it has already been placed among your things. I felt it was time to return it to its rightful owner," said the Headmaster, much more cheerfully. "Now, let us go to the feast. The students will no doubt be complaining about the lack of food, so we should rectify that unfortunate situation posthaste."

With this, the old man stood up and led Harry out the door to his office.

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Harry stood at the back of the Great Hall, ignoring the stares he was recieving from the student body as Dumbledore stood up once more. The last first year had just been sorted, and some people, (especially a gangly, dirty looking redhead) were glaring at Harry as if it was _his _fault they hadn't eaten yet. Which, Harry reflected idly, it was.

"As many of you have noticed," Dumbledore said, "we have a new student among us to be sorted. Will our fifth year students please welcome Harry Potter. Harry, if you will step forward, we will sort you, and then we may begin our most excellent feast."

At the name "Potter," whispers began spreading through the Hall like plot holes in a J.K. Rowling story.

"Potter, did he say?"

"He's supposed to be dead!"

"What's that on his back?"

"What happened to him?"

Harry ignored the whispering as he strode forward to the tiny stool waiting next to Professor McGonagall, which he ignored in favor of standing. McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat onto Harry's head, and it immediately shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a loud cheer from the leftmost table, and somebody released a set of firecrackers which repeatedly spelled "We Got Potter!"

Harry grimaced at the attention, but took off the Hat and gave it to Professor McGonagall. He then made his way to the Gryffindor table, where he sat down next to Ginny and a gangly redheaded boy.

"And now, before we begin our feast, I have one last announcement to make. In light of Lord Voldemort's return, Professor Moody has decided to resign his teaching position so as to rejoin the Auror Corps. In his place will be Lord Sirius Black, a former auror himself. Please give him a warm welome as our newest professor."

Harry coughed at the announcement that Sirius was going to be a professor- his dogfather had said nothing of the sort. Although, now that Harry thought of it, Sirius had been dropping hints about seeing each other more than Harry expected.

After the students clapped politely (or, in the case of the Gryffindors, exuberantly) for their new professor, Dumbledore sat back down and clapped his hands, causing piles upon piles of food to appear on the tables.

Harry sighed as the other students began to devour the feast before them. He _so _wished he could eat. Unfortunately, his digestive process didn't work, so the food would just sit in his stomach until he forced himself to vomit.

"Ar'n' 'ou 'ungry?" asked the redhead next to him, food spraying across the table as he spoke.

"I have... special dietary restrictions," Harry explained, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the boy's table manners.

"Ron, you're disgusting," Ginny said, then turned to Harry. "Please excuse my brother. He was dropped on his head as a child."

"I had a cousin like that when I was younger." Harry said, then his face darkened as he thought of the Dursleys. The first thing he'd done after meeting Mick had been to try and track down the Dursleys. The Potter family fortune had been enourmously helpful in that regard. Harry had been able to find the Dursleys' new home easily, and had, after purchasing a cursed knife which promised to keep its victim alive until their neck was severed, payed them a visit.

The house had been empty, though. Oh, not completely. Hell, there were dirty dishes on the table. And the photos had confirmed that_ this _time he was at the Dursley's house. However, a quick search showed that the Dursleys had apparently packed up and left relatively recently. That was where the trail went cold. Within two weeks, Harry was looking again. But this time, it was as if the Dursleys had vanished. Discreet inquiries aimed at the neighbors had shown that wherever the Dursleys went, it was unplanned. That seemed to indicate that they'd somehow gotten wind of his escape, which meant that they'd be making themselves scarce. A discreet bribe and a rather large gun had gotten him a copy of the Dursleys bank records, which showed a large cash withdrawal from a bank in Australia. Harry hadn't been able to find anything more than that before Sirius tracked him down and convinced him to put his revenge on hold for a little while. Let the Dursleys live in fear for a few years while Harry trained up his skills. The goblins could track the Dursleys down eventually, and then Harry would be able to get his revenge.

"Harry? You okay there?" asked a voice.

Harry shook his head and got up to leave the Great Hall. It was going to be a long year.

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Well, there it is. The really short and totally unawaited third chapter. Seriously, does nobody care? Five reviews, people?


	5. A Busy Month

Just a quick heads up- I made an edit to the last chapter that included Dumbledore giving Harry his cloak back, so yeah, he has that.

Also, for simplicity, I've decided to move the timeline up 10 years. Book 1 now takes place in 2001, not 1991.

Also, thanks for the encouragement, Hollow Phantom Drewits, GaleAeras. I appreciated it. And fear not Gale- I shall not abandon my story just because of its unpopularity. I write stories because it's fun, not for recognition. Recognition is just really nice.

And Darkth Shadow, thank you for being such a loyal reader. It's guys like you, Six Samurai of Dragon Order, and Tylermech that make writing fun- people who enjoy my story as much as I do.

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The next morning saw Harry come in from the Forbidden Forest at about five thirty AM. He pricked his finger on the specially made bloodlock on his trunk (a normal bloodlock wouldn't register him at all, as he didn't have enough blood), and stowed his shotgun, then went to the shower. He didn't really need to shower, but it felt nice. Also, it would be good to get the acromantula blood off him. Yeah, that would be wise.

He took a while bathing, so by the time he was done, a few other students were in the common room. Hermione was sitting in an armchair by the fire with a large book on her lap, which he expected was the norm for her. A pair of sixth years was making out in a corner where Hermione couldn't see them. Lastly, a pair of red-headed twins was whispering to each other and arguing over a piece of parchment at one of the tables. Harry made his way to them.

"Gred and Feorge Weasely?" he asked politely.

The twins looked up.

"What? Can't you see we're busy?" One of them asked.

"You have something that belongs to me. I'd like it back now."

"And what might that be, oh Lord Potter?" asked twin number Two.

"The Marauder's Map. Moony said he suspected you two might have found it." Harry answered, scowling now.

Instantly, the twins' faces changed from looks of annoyance to ones of shock.

"You know the Marauders?" asked Two.

"I know Moony and Padfoot, yes, and Prongs was my father."

"What about Wormtail?" One asked eagerly.

"We don't talk about him anymore. Suffice to say that he betrayed the Marauders, and is no longer with us."

The twins nodded. "We understand. But we can't just give you the Map, just because you're Prongs' kid. It's ours, now. But we'll be leaving at the end of the year, and won't have any use for it then. We'll give it to you then," explained One.

"No good. What if we come to a deal? I understand that the two of you are attempting to raise money for a joke shop?"

"Yes..." said Two eagerly.

"Well, in exchange for the map and for being made a full partner, I will fund your joke shop, provide limited access to an invisibility cloak when you have need of it for pranks, and introduce you to Moony and Padfoot. In fact, I should be able to arrange a meeting with Padfoot by the end of the week."

The twins glanced at each other, then back at Harry. "Deal!" they said together, grinning.

"Brother mine, it looks like things are finally looking up for us," said Two.

"Indeed it does," said One as he pulled the map out of his robes and handed it to Harry. "To be honest, we don't really need it all that much. We know the passages by heart. It's really the tracker that we use now."

"I understand. Speaking of which," Harry took a quick glance at the map, then whipped his wand out at the twins. _"Notarus. _That's from Moony. He says this will make sure the teachers give detention to the right twin from now on."

Fred and George looked at Harry, then at each other, then, with horror, at the large, flashing red label hovering above each of their heads.

"You can't do this to us, Harry!" complained Fred.

"It's criminal!" added George.

Harry chuckled as he walked away, ignoring their protests, and went to get his things from his dormitory. He still had a good two and a half hours to kill, and he figured a quick refresher was in order.

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"Mister Potter. Our new... celebrity," Snape sneered as he reached Harry's name on the roll.

"I'd like to stop right there, Professor Snape," Harry objected. "Frankly, I hate being famous, not that you'd believe it, and I reallyhate getting special treatment because of it. But what I really, really, _really_ hate is immature pricks who can't get over the fact that a dead man humiliated him thirty years ago, and decide to take it out on the guy's son. So, Professor, if you insist on treating me poorly just because my father made you look like a dumbass in school, I will demand satisfaction. Is that understood?"

Snape growled at Harry, then looked him in the eyes. An instant later, Snape was on the ground clutching his stomach, staring at the gun in Harry's hand. The shocked students stared from one to the other, before Pansy Parkinson screamed.

"And if you _ever _cast the legilimens curse on a student without his or her permission again, I will shoot to kill. Understood, professor?" Harry didn't mention it, but the only reason Snape had survived this encounter at all was because Harry intended for him to. The Model 500 Harry normally carried would have blown a hole straight through Snape's stomach, rather than the flesh-wound the .22 had caused.

"MURDER!" Parkinson cried. "Potter murdered a professor!"

"Be quiet, you idiot girl! Get Madam Pomfrey, and tell her to bring the aurors! You will regret this, Potter," the man growled through his pain. "I will see you in Azkaban for assault and attempted murder!"

"Bring it on, Snivellus." Harry sneered as Snape crawled to his feet. The supposedly-ex-Death-Eater pointed his wand at the wound in his stomach, and the bullet came flying out. A quick wave, and the bleeding ceased and most of the damage healed.

Harry turned to sit down, and for the first time, noticed that the entire class was pointing their wands at him.

Harry sighed and raised his hands. Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't have fought his way past this many students. And he didn't want to- he'd carefully waited for Snape to cast the Legilimens curse on him before acting for a reason.

"Put the gun down, Potter," Hermione said carefully.

Harry nodded and bent down slowly, placing the pistol on the ground. He then flicked his right wrist, causing his wand to slide into his hand, which he placed next to the pistol before standing again and leaning against his desk.

"There, I'm unarmed," he said, carefully not mentioning the knife he had on his leg, or the wand which was surgically implanted between the bones in his left forearm. His other weapons, he had left in his trunk, knowing he was likely to be arrested today, and that carrying a small arsenal on him would not be wise."You can lower your wands now."

A few students did so, but most of them just glared at him until the door burst open.

Now, what's this nonsense about Potter killing... Severus!" said Madam Pomfrey, followed by Parkinson's "There he is, sir! And there's the thing he killed Professor Snape with, too!"

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Harry sat down nonchalantly, ignoring the chains that bound him to the courtroom chair.

"You are Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, correct?" asked Madam Bones. It had been decided that she would preside over Harry's trial instead of Dumbledore, due to the fact that Dumbledore and Harry were already acquainted.

"That is correct, yes."

"You stand accused for the assault and attempted murder of Severus Snape on September 2 of this year. How do you plead?"

Snape, now fully healed, sneered nastily at Harry.

"Not guilty, your honor. My actions were fully in self defense. I would like to counter charge Severus Snape with assault on a minor, assault on the head of an Ancient and Noble House, and illegal use of the legilimens curse. When Professor Snape assaulted me, I had a recording disc on me which should be able to attest to this fact. It was in my pocket when I was arrested, so it should be in the DM LE's possession."

Madam Bones searched through the pile of parchments on her podium, and withdrew one of them to examine.

"Yes, it is currently stored in the evidence room. Auror Dawlish will go to retrieve it so that the court may view the events in question."

One of the aurors silently left the courtroom, only to return a few minutes later with a small, gray disc in his hands, which he presented to Madam Bones.

Madam Bones examined the disc, then waved her wand over it, causing it to glow blue, then a series of numbers appeared above it.

"Examination reveals that the recording disc in question has not been tampered with or damaged, that it is in working order, and that it of a model which is capable of detecting advanced magic such as the Legilimens curse. Is there any objection from the court to using this device as evidence?"

There was some muttering, and Snape looked noticeably paler, then a woman in a hideous pink suit stood up.

"Hem, hem. If I may ask, why did Mister Potter have this particular device on him at the time? It is not common for ordinary citizens to carry recording discs on them at all, much less such a sophisticated one as to be able to detect advanced spellwork. Combined with the eyewitness accounts of Mister Potter insulting and threatening Professor Snape, it almost seems as if Mister Potter intended to _goad _the good professor into attacking him. And is it normal for students at Hogwarts to carry weapons? Surely not. If so, the law _must _be adjusted."

Madam Bones looked at Harry. "Could you address these issues, Mister Potter?"

"Certainly, Madam. I carry it on me as a contingency. In the light of Lord Voldemort's return, I am a prime target for attack. If such an event happens, I will be forced to defend myself. I would prefer to have evidence that I was attacked first. As for why I carry that particular model, that's simple- it's the best version there is, and I have the money to spare. Lastly, I am fully within my rights as a Head of an Ancient and Noble House to carry any weapon on me at practically any time. But perhaps Madam Umbridge is correct. Maybe it is time to reexamine the rights of a Head of an Ancient and Noble House."

There was quite a bit of murmuring at this last bit, and more than a few glares tossed at the now scowling Umbridge. The Head of House laws were stagnant and ancient. The fact that the laws were so archaic was where quite a few pureblood families drew their power from, and how many had stayed out of Azkaban after Voldemort's fall. Nobody wanted those laws to be reviewed- if they were then reasonable adjustments might be made, and the purebloods certainly didn't want that.

Madam Bones almost smiled at Harry's argument, then asked again. "Are there any other objections?"

Nobody objected this time, so Madom Bones tapped the disc with her wand. A gray, three dimensional image of the Potions classroom appeared above the disc, and Madam Bones waved her wand to enlarge the playback area. The Wizengamot watched in silence as the events in the Potions room unfolded. All could see a golden beam (the memory disc's assigned color for the normally invisible Legilimens curse), hit Harry after he threatened to challenge Snape to a duel, and could see Harry draw the gun and shoot Snape. Some muttered at the apparent power of the muggle weapon, but most dismissed it, arguing to themselves that the damage it had done had been relatively minor and easily healed.

When the recording ended, the Wizengamot turned to look at Harry, then at the ashen-faced Professor Snape.

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Harry whistled to himself as he walked easily through the Forbidden Forest, shotgun in hand, apparently unconcerned about the dangers around him. It had been a good couple of weeks. Sure, he'd been in jail for three days, and spent two more in court, but he'd managed to get Snape arrested, and the Acromantulas were already learning not to stray too far from their nests alone. And, despite his fears, his fellow students weren't treating him as a pariah for shooting their professor. In fact, once the story hit the news and it was clear that Harry was acting in self defense, most of them treated Harry as a hero for getting rid of the hated professor (who was now on trial, and would likely spend the rest of his days in Azkaban). Oh, sure, Hermione was acting as if he were a monster, and most of the Slytherins were out for blood, but Harry doubted the idiots would be a real threat, and who cared what Hermione thought?

Harry stopped and froze as he heard a _twang, _then ducked, allowing the arrow to soar overhead. He spun around and aimed his shotgun, then stopped. He was surrounded by three centaurs, bows drawn and aimed at him.

"What do you want in our forest, human?" asked a centaur with blonde hair and a palomino body asked angrily.

"I'm here to clear the forest of its darker creatures. I'm also here to provide you with a warning. Pretty soon you'll start seeing a lot of inferi in the woods. You've probably already spotted a few. I try to keep their population down, but it's hard. They tend to follow me, and I need to make sure they don't harm any of the students because I'm here. I mean the centaurs and good creatures of the forest no harm."

The centaur to Harry's back, one with black hair all over, drew his bow farther. "You are the source of the inferi that haunt our woods?"

Harry nodded. "I'm afraid so. They..." he stopped cold as the centaur let go of his bowstring. The arrow flew straight through the air, striking Harry in the center of his chest and sending him staggering forward.

"God, _damn, _that hurts! What was that for,you prick!" Harry growled as he turned around to face the threat, only to see another arrow coming for his head. He barely managed to dodge it, then dove to the side and took cover behind a tree, getting his shotgun ready to shoot as the first centaur began galloping towards him. To his surprise, however, the centaur soared straight past him and into the black haired bastard.

"Bane! We do not loose our arrows without cause!"

"That thing is the reason the inferi have crawled out of their holes! It is the cause of the attack on our herd! It is why the acromantulas grow restless! It is a monster itself! You defend it when we must kill it!"

"Hey, I'm a _he, _not an _it!" _Harry objected. "And I can't help it if inferi follow me everywhere I go! I didn't even know they were already here! It normally takes a few weeks for the things to get to me after I move this far! And do you think I _like _being like this? Cause I sure as fuck don't. I can't eat, can't sleep, can't heal, and have to hide what I am or I'll be crucified! I can't even take a god damned shower around other people or they'll notice all the wounds that haven't healed! Do _you _wanna be turned into a fuckin' zombie?"

The third centaur, the one who hadn't spoken yet, stepped forward. "Be that as it may, your presence has caused many problems. The inferi that have been hidden in this forest are now active. They recently attacked our herd, killing many of us when our bows failed to slay the monsters. And your actions in killing the dark creatures of the forest have done more harm than good, it would seem. The acromantulas are angry at the killing of their kin. Many of them wish to attack the castle." Harry's eyes widened at this. "Indeed. Their leader, Aragog, holds them in line, but he cannot hold them for long. You must cease your attempts to 'cleanse' the forest, lest you upset the balance that has kept it from warring with Hogwarts."

"You as well, Ronan?" asked Bane. "You would converse with this monster as if it deserved anything more than death?"

"Tell me, Bane," interrupted the first centaur. "How would you kill this creature? You have seen already that our bows don't harm it," he gestured towards the arrow sticking out of Harry's chest.

"Still not an it," Harry said as Bane fell silent. "And I really am sorry about your herd, but you won't be able to do much to Inferi with bows. You'll need to be willing to use guns to kill the fuckers. Headshots will kill them with any weapon, but it's much easier to do that with a gun than with a bow."

"We will not deign to use human weapons, monster," said Bane angrily.

"Then you'll die," Harry argued. "You guys all need to get over this whole superiority complex bullshit anyway. Centaurs aren't any better than wizards, and wizards aren't better than muggles. What is it with magicals being so sure that they're superior to others?"

Bane looked like he was going to shoot Harry again, so he decided to change tactics.

"Look. Set up a meeting for me with the leaders of your herd. Since the attacks are my fault, it's my job to provide a way to defend yourselves. I'll show you what guns can do, and you'll make the decision to accept my help or not," he said before turning his attention to his wound. He considered the arrow carefully, then shrugged, drew his wand, and cast a severing charm to break the arrow, then pulled out the end that was sticking from his chest. "Could one of you guys get the end of this that's coming out of my back?" He asked the two friendly-ish-er centaurs. "I need to visit the acromantulas if I'm gonna stop them from attacking the castle, and it wouldn't do to show weakness. Oh, I'll also need directions to this Aragog's nest."

The three centaurs stared at him.

"You would go into a nest of acromantulas on your own?" Ronan asked.

"Unless you can find me a partner who's as invincible as I am, I think that's the best option. The worst the acromantulas can do is dismember me- they can't kill me. Anybody else, their life would be at risk." Harry explained. "And I've got to make sure that they don't attack the castle. If they do, hundreds of kids will be slaughtered."

The as yet unnamed centaur trotted over to Harry, then pulled the arrow out of the undead teen's back. "Aragog's nest is in the center of the acromantulas' den, about half an hour's walk that way," the centaur said, pointing. "When you reach the first of their webs, announce yourself plainly and state that you wish to speak to Aragog. If_ any _of the beasts attack you, you must kill it quickly. To do otherwise would show weakness, and you would be devoured. As for your request to meet with the elders of our herd, meet us in this spot in three days time, and we will tell you if it has been granted."

"Thanks," Harry said as he left in the indicated direction. "I'll remember that."

The next night, Harry found himself facing an enormous spider web strung between two trees.

"I seek an audience with..." Harry was interrupted by a relatively small acromantula dropping out of the trees directly above him. Harry rolled out of the way, then turned and blasted into the creature's side with the magnum he had opted to use instead of his shotgun. The shotgun was great for killing most creatures, but against acromantulas, he needed the sheer firepower provided by a .50 caliber magnum. The spider hissed and lunged, but Harry was already moving. He quickly backpedalled, letting out three more shots with his gun as he did so. Two of the blasts caught the acromantula in the face, killing it instantly.

Harry fed a new speedloader into his pistol and cocked it before speaking again. "I seek an audience with Aragog. I have business to discuss with him."

He waited patiently for several minutes, then called again. "I seek an audience with Aragog. I have business to discuss with him."

This time, a large acromantula crawled out of the tree cover.

"Why do you seek the webfather?" it asked int its hissing, growling voice, clicking its pincers with every word.

"I need to talk to him about the possibility of an attack on Hogwarts, and the recent killing of acromantulas in the forest." Harry replied.

The spider considered this for a moment, then responded. "I will tell him what you wish to speak of. If he accepts your desire for an audience, you will be granted safety within our nest for tonight. Otherwise, I suggest you run very quickly. It will make the hunt more interesting."

"Thank you," Harry said. "And the hunt would be quite deadly in this case," he added, gesturing at the corpse of the acromantula that had attacked him.

The spider looked at the corpse, then at Harry. It clicked its pincers once, then withdrew into the forest.

An hour later, a spider appeared (whether it was the same one or not, Harry couldn't tell).

"Aragog has granted your request for an audience," it hissed. "Follow me."

It turned around and moved quickly into the forest. Harry followed.

As they walked, Harry kept a close eye on the spiders around him. They were huge, many of them much larger than the ones he usually saw outside of the nest. They opened up in front of the spider he was following, who moved through them like an ancient prophet through an ocean, and closed up again quickly, forcing Harry to stay close behind his guide. After a few minutes, they came to the edge of the sea. The acromantulas abruptly stopped, forming a large circle of moving flesh around a larged domed web.

Outside this dome sat an enormous spider the size of a small elephant, its hair gray and its blind eyes a milky white.

"Why do you bring me a corpse, Logora? You said that you had a human who wishes to speak with me. I smell no human, only the stench of one long dead."

"If I may, Lord Aragog, that is because I _am _long dead. As far as I'm aware, I've been dead for fourteen years now. I'm under some kind of curse which causes me to live in this body instead of moving on to What Comes Next. The cure for that curse is one of the reasons I am at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"Ahhhh. Then you are one of the creatures that haunts the woods lately?" Aragog asked.

"Not quite, sir. I'm similar, but those monsters aren't intelligent. I am, to my knowledge, the only one of my kind. Unfortunately, the creatures which you speak of, called Inferi, tend to follow me from one place to another, and my presence excites them, causing them to grow aggressive. This leads to the reason for my presence here. In order to prevent the Inferi from harming others because of my presence, I spend the nights in the forest, hunting them. During my hunts, I am often attacked by acromantulas, who presumably think I am one of these monsters, and am forced to defend myself. Because of the ferocity of your kin, the fight ends in death more often than not. Since I am already dead, it invariably ends in the death of the acromantula who attacked me. I recently received word that your children grow angry due to the killings. I have come to call a truce between us. If your children will not attack myself or the castle, I will leave them unharmed. In the event of an attack on the castle, I will arm the wizards with weapons the likes of which you have never seen, which would be capable of destroying even the King of Serpents, and lead them on a hunt for every last one of your people."

"And why should I not just kill you now, and rid my children of the threat altogether?" Aragog asked.

"Because, sir, they would fail. I have no doubt that your people could easily kill me were I a normal human, even with my training and the special weapons I carry. However, I am not a human. I am, as you stated, already dead. I am immune to injury, and have no blood which you can poison. True, once you dismembered me I would pose little threat, but by that time I would have slain many of your kind. In addition, I did not come unprepared for such an attack. I have on me a device called a bomb, which, when activated, will kill everything in a large radius. It is enchanted to go off at a command word, which I will be able to speak even if my head is removed entirely from my body, due to the nature of my curse."

Aragog clicked his pincers as he considered this new development for a few minutes. Eventually, he spoke again.

"You say that you can kill the King of Serpents. Is this an idle boast?"

"No, Lord Aragog. The tools I have can neutralize the threat of its deadly gaze. I am immune to its poison. My weapons can pierce even its thick hide, and can destroy it utterly."

"I will make you a deal, dead human. The King of Serpents lives underneath the castle. It sometimes strays to the woods and hunts my children. I will lead to to the entrance to its lair. If you slay it, I will grant you your truce."

Harry thought about this, then made a counter-proposal. "Under one condition. I will kill the King of Serpents. In return, you will offer to defend the centaurs from the dead monsters which now roam the woods. You will be at peace with them for as long as I am in the castle. During the summer months, while I am no longer in the castle and the inferi are calmer, you may treat them as you wish. In addition, should the followers of Lord Voldemort ever enter this forest, you will slaughter every last one of them."

Aragog let out a low gurgling sound, which was copied by many of the spider around him. Harry's hand strayed to his gun, thinking he'd offended the spiders and was about to be attacked, until he realized that they were _laughing. _

"You are a shrewd one, human. I accept your proposal, though the centaurs will reject any help from my kind. For many years, our peoples have been mortal enemies. They will not put aside their hatred for us so easily."

"Leave that to me. You need not defend them until I tell you whether or not they have accepted the offer. Whether they accept or not, I will return here in one week's time to slay the King of Serpents."

With that, Harry turned and left the clearing.

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"Never!" cried one of the centaurs, a black-haired giant who bore a vague resemblance to Bane. "We will not ally ourselves with such monsters!"

"It's either that or learn to use human weapons, in which case you'd be in my debt." Harry replied. "Or you could always let your foals die because you're too arrogant to accept help."

Some of the gathered elders glanced at each other at this.

"Then tell us of these human weapons which can slay even a basilisk. That way, there will be no need for peace with the acromantulas. In fact, with such mighty weapons, we could finally destroy the beasts once and for all!" said a chestnut-brown female centaur, whose naked breasts Harry was carefully not looking at. In fact, there were several female centaurs present, and if Harry had had any blood in his body, it would have been flowing to his groin.

"No," Harry said sternly. "If I provide you with weapons, you will give me your word of honor not to use them against the acromantulas unless they attack en-masse. I will not be responsible for a war between two peoples."

The female and the centaur who resembled Bane growled, but said nothing. Another male, this one with slightly gray hair, stepped forward.

"You must understand, human, what you ask us to do. Either we make peace with our ancient enemies, or we break our traditions and give up our very way of life. What would you feel, in such a situation?"

"To be honest, I don't know. My entire life has been more focused on staying alive. I don't have room for traditions or grudges. But here's my suggestion- accept the acromantulas' help. If you do, the fighting between yourselves will be gone for nine months out of the year, saving many of your younger and more brash centaurs from death. The acromantulas will likely remain unseen unless there is an inferi attack on your colony, and as such, you will only have to tolerate their presence if your lives are in danger, at which point you'll have bigger concerns than some ancient grudge. Your people will be free to continue living according to your traditions, and in a few years you'll be allowed to hate the acromantulas again."

The centaurs looked at Harry, then an ancient male with gray hair and a scarred face came forward. "You are wise beyond your years, bloodless one. Please give us some privacy to discuss your offer. In the meantime, you may rest outside my tent. One of my foals will guide you to it," the elder nodded at a young female who was hovering around the door.

"Thank you, sir. I hope you come to the right decision," Harry replied, then followed the centaur out of the tent.

It took three hours for the centaurs to come to an agreement. During that time, he heard quite a bit of shouting and yelling. There was even what sounded like a fist-fight at one point. Eventually, however, the same female that had led him to his resting place came to get him, and he was led back to the meeting tent.

"Human," said the ancient centaur, "we have decided to accept the offer of help from the acromantulas. As... distasteful as this decision is, it is better to have an unseemly ally for a few years than to give up our way of life entirely, as using human weapons would entail, or to lose the lives of our foals. However, we will be setting up a perimeter around our lands. If any acromantula enters this territory unbidden for any reason other than to slay an inferus, it will be killed. Is that acceptable?"

Harry nodded. "I believe so. I will inform Aragog that the deal has been accepted when I see him next."


	6. A New Ally

Harry grinned and adjusted his goggles as he looked at the mouth of the cave Aragog had led him too. Just inside it, he could make out the skin of an enormous snake.

"This basilisk must be fucking _huge," _he muttered to himself as he checked his guns. For this particular job, he'd brought his magnum and, more importantly, his sniper rifle. From his bandoleer hung a frag grenade, a flash-bang, and two tear gas grenades, as well as extra armor-piercing, explosive, and incendiary rounds. The rifle itself was chambered with MK211 High-Explosive Armor-Piercing Incendiary (HEIAP) rounds, and the goggles he was wearing were enchanted to act as a one way mirror, protecting him from the basilisk's gaze attack even if he looked it in the eyes. This snake was going to fucking _die._

Carefully, he snuck into the cave, his enchanted boots not making a sound. After a little while, the cave walls became smoother, the floor flatter. He observed these changes in passing, not paying them much attention. What did catch his attention was the gigantic archway with a large statue of a snake on either side. Cautiously, Harry drew a large bouncey ball from a pouch in his clothes and threw it into the room, allowing it to bounce for a little while. When nothing happened, he moved past the arch, summoning the ball to him and putting it back in its pouch. The tunnel opened up into a wide, high-ceilinged chamber. The room was dotted with tall pillars, with carvings of massive snakes coiled around them, and in the center of each wall was an archway identical to the one Harry had just entered. Looking around the room, Harry nodded in satisfaction- this would be an acceptable place to lay his ambush. He took out the bipod for his sniper rifle and attached it, then positioned the gun in a corner where he would have a view of all three of the archways the snake might come through. He then went to each of the four archways and used a sticking charm to string a few pieces of string across each one. Then he settled down behind the gun, pulling on his invisibility cloak. Then, when he was sure he was completely prepared, he pulled out his wand. Aiming at the center of the chamber, he conjured a large, smelly sheep and hit it with a stinging hex, causing it to run around and bleat excitedly. Whenever it tried to leave the chamber, the sheep would simply bounce off of the string and run in a different direction.

After about ten minutes, he saw movement in the arch opposite the entrance tunnel. He hit the sheep with another stinging hex, as it had started to calm down, and it began panicking again. Then it died. One second it was running around like a terrified sheep, the next, a huge, yellow, serpentine head erupted from the arch and snapped down on the animal. A long, scaled body followed the head, wrapping and coiling around the pillars as the snake moved throughout the chamber. Harry tried to line up a shot, but the basilisk was moving too much, too rapidly, too unpredictably for him to get a decent line on its head.

"_I smell death," _whispered a low, sibilant voice. The snake looked around, and its eyes fell on the corner Harry was hiding in. Had Harry been alive, sweat would have broken out on his forehead as the snake began moving toward him, weaving in and out of the pillars so rapidly that Harry couldn't take a shot.

Just as the enormous snake lunged forward, fangs reared, Harry rolled out of the way. Unfortunately, he was just a little too slow. One of the snake's tremendous fangs tore into his right leg, venom sizzling as it dissolved his flesh.

Harry roared in pain and drew a tear gas grenade from his bandoleer and pulled the pin, then shoved it into the snake's open mouth. The basilisk roared as the gas began entering its eyes, nose, and mouth, and pulled away from Harry. As quickly as he could, he staggered across the chamber to a different corner, then summoned his gun to him. The goggles he wore protected his eyes from the effects of the tear gas, and since he didn't breath, it didn't enter his lungs- he was completely immune to the poisonous fumes. The basilisk, however, was not so lucky. It screamed and thrashed in pain as the gas burned its eyes, mouth, and nose.

"_What magic is this?" _the basilisk cried as it thrashed wildly, "_Who dares attack me?! I will tear your flesh from your bones! I will devour you whole! I will turn you to stone and dissolve your flesh with my venom!" _

Harry laid down on his stomach again as the basilisk continued writhing in agony, and peered through the scope. As before, he couldn't get a bead on the snake's head properly. Now, though, he had time. The gas wouldn't dissipate for some time, and the effects would remain for a good half hour after that. The basilisk would likely be too intent on killing its attacker to leave the room, but it would be unable to find him- he was invisible, and the tear gas would keep it from smelling him. So he picked a spot near the snake's head and waited patiently. A few moments later, the serpent's wild thrashing brought it into his scope, and he fired. The HEIAP round left the chamber at four thousand feet per second, soaring across the room and struck the creature in the head. The Armor-Piercing Tungsten core bore through the basilisk's thick hide and skull. A moment later, the incendiary component ignited, causing the explosive component to explode, sending a shockwave through the snake's brain that turned it to jelly.

The body continued to writhe for a few moments as it tried to register what had just happened, but the beast was already dead. Harry, not knowing this, fired two more rounds into the monster's skull, then hurried out of the chamber through the door the basilisk had used.

He found himself in a long tunnel, which ended in a chamber identical to the one he'd just left, only without the archways. Another large basilisk skin was against a wall, but that was it.

Only now did he take notice that the scar on his forehead seemed to be smoking, and that there was a faint scream coming from the chamber he'd just left.

Shrugging, Harry inspected his leg. The basilisk's fang had pierced his left calf, piercing all the way through Harry's leg and narrowly missing the bone. No blood came from the wound, but a thick, black ichor was beginning to pool around the edges of the hole. The ichor smoked and sizzled as the orange basilisk venom ate away at it, but it kept flowing from the flesh surrounding the hole. Not knowing if he could be effected by the venom, Harry used his wand to cut away a fine layer of flesh from the wound, effectively removing any skin that had been in contact with the venom. That done, he transfigured the towel in his pack into a bandage and wrapped the wound, then left the room and went to explore the other two passageways. One of them led to a large series of underground chambers which didn't really have anything in them, and the other led to a small wooden doorway.

Harry took out his wand and checked the door for wards or traps, then opened it carefully, handgun at the ready, and threw his bouncy ball into the room again.

"You don't need to be so cautious, you know. You just killed a thousand year old basilisk. It's not like there's much in the universe that could hurt you. Come on in. It's been decades since I last had any company."

Harry opened the door the rest of the way.

Beyond it was a small, cozy room. One of the walls was lined with bookshelves full of hundreds of tiny little books, and one had two doors in it. Two large, cushy armchairs sat before an empty fireplace in the far wall, above which hung a portrait of a bald man with a pointed gray beard.

"Salazar Slytherin?" Harry asked, recognizing the man in the portrait immediately.

"Indeed," said the portrait. "Salazar Slytherin the Elder, at your service. Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets"

"Wait," Harry said, confused. "The Elder? You had a son? The stories don't mention that."

Slytherin sighed. "Yes, my last visitor, about a century ago, mentioned that. Most of what you've likely heard about me- the blood-supremacy and all that, is actually about my idiot son, Salazar the Younger. You see, he felt that, as my first-born, he should be at least as powerful as I am. Of course it doesn't work that way, but he refused to believe that. He got it into his head that he was weaker because I'd married a muggle, and her mundane blood diluted my magical. When I pointed out that witches and wizards could come from families with pure non-magical blood, he decided that muggle-borns were somehow 'stealing' the magic that rightfully belonged to him. Bloody moron was almost as insane as that 'voldemort' twat that forced Asclepius to attack all those children a few decades ago."

"You met Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Not personally, no. I managed to maintain enough control over Asclepius, my basilisk, to keep the little prick out of here. See, Asclepius was supposed to obey my heir and protect the school. When the plumbing was installed about a century ago, some of the work unearthed an underground chamber. The headmaster at the time connected this area to that so that Asclepius would have direct access to the castle in event of an attack. A few decades later, some boy named Tom Riddle (the little idiot called himself 'Lord Voldermort. I suppose he thought it sounded impressive) found that chamber while Asclepius was there. He ordered Asclepius to start petrifying muggle-borns. Well, Asclepius was in a bind. She couldn't disobey my heir, but she couldn't harm the students. Eventually, she went insane and developed two personalities. One side was bloodthirsty and evil, like Riddle, her new master. The other side was devoted to the protection of the castle. Eventually, the evil side became the dominant personality, and the other side was crushed. Fortunately, the good side maintained enough control to keep Riddle out of the Chamber. If he'd had access to the knowledge in here, he could have done some serious damage to the wizarding world, and nobody could have stopped him."

Harry looked up at this. "Is there information in here that could be used _against _Voldemort?"

"Of course," replied Slytherin. "Powerful magic would be just as capable of working against him as it would be of working for him. There's no true 'dark' magic, you see. It all depends on how it's used. In my day, we knew that. From what that lad told me a century ago, modern wizards think that 'dark' magic somehow corrupts your soul or some shit like that. Idiots." Slytherin scoffed. "I will require a magical oath, however, that you won't use the knowledge I'm about to give you to harm innocents before I tell you how to access that information without killing yourself. You can do whatever you like to bastards like Voldemort- if he's still around and causing trouble, he almost certainly deserves whatever you can do to him. But I won't allow my library to be used for evil."

Harry nodded, and took out his wand. "I swear upon my life and upon my magic that I will not knowingly or willingly inflict undo harm upon innocents. So mote it be." Harry's wand glowed briefly, and Slytherin nodded.

"Very good. I suggest _A Practical Application of the Dark Arts_, to start with. It's toward the top left of the bookshelf."

"And how do I get it safely?" Harry asked.

"Oh, you don't need to do anything special. Just take it off the shelf. The shrinking spell will be temporarily negated as soon as you open it, and it'll shrink down again whenever it's closed."

Harry stared. "You were _bluffing? _I gave a magical oath for that information, and you were _bluffing?"_

Slytherin grinned. "Absolutely. I never bothered to put any security on this place besides a notice-me-not charm and Asclepius. I honestly didn't think it would be necessary, what with a basilisk protecting the area."

Harry fumed for a few moments at being tricked, then shrugged as reason caught up with him. It wasn't like he was ever going to hurt any innocents anyway. That issue resolved, Harry walked over to the bookshelf and started looking through it, picking out anything that looked helpful. In addition to the book Slytherin had suggested, he took _A Guide to Combat Magickes, _then, as a though occurred to him, he turned to Slytherin again.

"Do you know any way that he could have avoided dying when he was hit by a killing curse?" Harry asked.

Slytherin's eyes widened, and he began to swear viciously in several different languages, some of which Harry couldn't recognize.

Eventually, the ancient wizard calmed down enough for Harry to ask "What? What did he do?"

"He made a Horcrux," Slytherin responded. "It's some of the only magic in the world that's actually _evil _by nature. It requires the ritual killing of an innocent human being, usually a child, followed by harvesting and destroying the person's soul. When the soul is destroyed, the energy released is channeled into splitting your own soul in half and storing one half in a powerfully enchanted artifact. I don't know the rituals involved, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, even if you gave an oath not to use it. _That _knowledge needs to be destroyed. There are only three things I know of that can destroy a Horcrux- basilisk venom, fiendfyre, or having a dementor swallow the soul fragment in question."

Harry frowned. "I just killed what's probably the only basilisk in existence, I doubt I could control fiendfyre, and dementors always try to kiss me whenever they see me. I'm in trouble, aren't I?" he asked.

"Not necessarily," Slytherin responded. "I'd intended to save this for one of my heirs, but circumstances change. So, here goes." At that, the portrait swung forward, much like the portrait of the Fat Lady did, to reveal a small cubby. Inside was...

"A basilisk egg? You want me to hatch a basilisk? Are you insane?" Harry asked.

"You really don't have a choice, I'm afraid. If you can't control fiendfyre, your options are dementors or basilisk venom. If dementors truly attack you on sight, and since basilisk venom eats through pretty much everything, you'll have to have an actual basilisk. Besides, a basilisk makes a fantastic familiar, and the one in this egg is a male, so he won't have the gaze attack."

"Wait, male basilisks can't kill by sight?"

"You didn't know that?" Slytherin asked. "What are they teaching in Hogwarts these days?"

Harry scoffed. "Mostly how to turn teapots into turtles and when the latest goblin rebellion was, with a healthy dose of how incompetent we are at potions. But basilisks have been supposedly extinct for over seven hundred years, and breeding them yourself is punishable by life in Azkaban, so they're not exactly course material anyway."

"Basilisks are _extinct?" _Slytherin looked horrified. "Who keeps back the acromantulas, then?"

"What do basilisks have to do with acromantulas?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean, what do they have to do with acromantulas? Basilisks are the only thing they fear! Without basilisks to keep them in check, the acromantulas would kill _everything._ They're immune to most spells, they're vicious killers, and regard any other creature, even other acromantulas, as food!_" _

Harry frowned. "I don't know anything about basilisks keeping acromantulas in check," he said, "but the acromantulas in the forest don't seem to be like that. They've been at war with the centaurs for a few centuries, from the sound of it, but they don't really kill other creatures. Hell, I got them to agree to _protect_ the centaurs in exchange for killing the basilisk that lived here."

"There are acromantulas _here? _In the Enchanted Forest? And Hogwarts hasn't sent in a force to wipe them out?"

"The _Enchanted _Forest?" Harry asked. "It's the Forbidden Forest now. And what do you want Hogwarts to do- send in a group of teachers? Even if they killed the acromantulas, they'd be slaughtered by vampires, lethifolds, or the other dark creatures that live in the forest. I'm pretty much the only one who can survive in these woods, and that's only because I can't be killed."

Slytherin looked aghast, then sighed. "Things have truly gone downhill, then," he said. "In my day, the forest was populated by creatures of the light, not the dark. The Enchanted Forest was one of the most beautiful places in all of Europe. That's why we built Hogwarts there. And the castle was more than just a school- it was the premier military instillation in the wizarding world. Why do you think it's built like that? It's a fortress- it has only one real entrance, with a half-dozen hidden exits, and dozens of secret passageways. It's got traps, weapons, armor, and wards to protect it. And you thought it was just a _school_? Who in their right minds would build a school like that?"

Harry looked slightly sheepish. "Well, I always figured that the lot of you were slightly mad," he responded.

"That's _it. _I'm coming out of this god-damned cave if it kills me. Again. The wizarding world needs to be _fixed. _But before I can come out, you need to kill Voldemort. If he's anything like he was when he was in school, he controls half the wizarding world by now. I'd be destroyed before I could do any good. And to kill Voldemort, you need a basilisk. Now come take this bloody egg. I'm tired of hanging open like this."

Against his better judgement, Harry stepped forward and put his hands into the cubby. When he reached into it, it felt as if he were reaching into a pool of warm water. He grabbed the egg from its stand and took it out, then closed Slytherin's portrait.

"Good," said the portrait. "Now, put the egg down and tap it with your wand. It'll want to bond right away, so have a name ready. And I suggest you transfigure a mouse for it to eat. He'll be hungry as soon as he hatches."

Harry considered for a few moments, then decided on a name he'd read in a book once.

He placed the egg on the ground and conjured a few mice, then tapped the egg with his wand as Slytherin had said. Instantly, a crack appeared where the tip of his wand had touched the egg, and began to spread across the shell. A few moments later, the egg erupted into scarlet flames and turned to ash. In the center of the ashes was a large yellow snake, roughly three feet lon with a red plume on its head. The snake looked Harry in the eyes, then was distracted by the mice scurrying across the floor. It quickly moved after the nearest one, sinking its fangs into the helpless rodent.

"_Food," _the snake said after the mouse stopped twitching. "_Eat first. Bond later," _this last was said with a glance towards Harry.

Harry nodded and replied in parsletounge, "_Yes. Eat first. Then we will bond."_

The snake nodded and unhinged its jaw to swallow the mouse. When it was done with its meal, it crawled lazily to Harry's feet, a noticeable bulge in its stomach.

"Pick him up and let him wrap around your wrist. Then tell him his name," Slytherin instructed.

Harry bent down to pick up the snake. When he reached toward the creature, it sniffed his hand.

"_Why do you smell of death? Am I to be bonded to a corpse?" _it asked.

"_I am not a corpse, but under a curse. I am neither living nor dead, but my body is as of the dead," _Harry responded. Slytherin's eyebrows raised at this, but he said nothing.

The baby basilisk gave Harry another sniff, then wrapped around his wrist.

"_What is my name, master?"_ the basilisk hissed.

"_Your name is Ahktar." _

The snake considered this, then nodded once, opened its mouth, and sunk its fangs into Harry's wrist.

"Ow! What the fuck was that?" Harry asked as the snake withdrew its teeth.

"That was the bonding process," Slytherin responded. "Don't worry about being poisoned, he won't start developing poison for a few hours. Ahktar is now bound to you. Upon your death, his new master will be your chosen heir, so long as he is of your bloodline. Should your heir be of a different family, Ahktar will choose his new master, if he desires one."

Harry frowned. "I'm the last Potter. And I'm sterile."

"Something to do with that curse you mentioned?" Slytherin asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well, there's nothing for it. Train young Ahktar to be a good and honorable creature, and you won't need to worry about his choice of master when you die."

Harry thought about this, then shrugged. If Ahktar went bad, Harry could always kill him after Voldemort was taken care of. He wouldn't tell Slytherin that, though.

"So, what are the differences between a male and female basilisk?" Harry eventually asked as he stroked Ahktar's scales. The snake _was... _endearing, somehow.

"Well, a male's venom is far more potent, killing its victim almost instantly. In addition, the male doesn't have the gaze attack, like we discussed, but can turn invisible at will. That's... well, that's pretty much it."

Harry looked at the snake wrapped around his arm again and stroked its scales some more. If what Slytherin had said was true, he'd just gained a powerful ally.


End file.
